i

every time i write i wonder why, (examing
her arm pit
running through the mine pit
like a canary

momentarily ahead with the noxious
fumes gaining..)
if it were love
or money..

ii

god must have wondered too
(that would no doubt be
blasphmy in less enlightened times..
they would have tortured me)

but when he made me and you
the gift of creativity
remains-(and burnt me like
an old tree..)

iii

so,(see how far we have come)
so,we have freedom
(to be used responsibilly)
(neither love nor money)

and who is to say-what will
be..
just to say one thing! that may
be of passing interest to someone..

iv

that is the question
why bother-i distrust our
motive-it´s brevity
is too short

it´s length too long
just say what you mean
and let us leave it at that
beauty?

love and money
again..
inexstrictable pain
and monotony..